Cloaks and Daggers
by Dr. Chaos
Summary: Blaise Zabini, an enigma within the Slytherin house. No one knows which camp he belongs to, and he likes it that way. Rating for language, violence, and other thingies. In revision, again.
1. The Message

Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah, standard disclaimer. 

Blaise was having a horrible morning.

He'd awoken at a far too early time, due to an over-excited Archimedes delivering a letter from his uncle. The contents of the letter had made him blanche.

He'd sworn to himself as his shoes refused to be tied for a good ten minutes.

His robes refused to come together correctly along the neckline.

His tawny locks had refused to go in any one direction, regardless of the potions or spells he threw at it.

The ultimate vexation was the fact his roommates had remained asleep throughout his excursions about the room, disregarding the fact Archimedes had knocked over Malfoy's Nimbus 2001 onto a discarded deck of Exploding Snap, and had proceeded to crash into Goyle, who'd merely grunted in his sleep. As Archimedes had gotten up, he bumped Nott's experimental potion for counter-acting the Draught of the Living Death, causing it to crash. The fumes had caused the owl to move twice as fast and to become extraordinarily hyperactive.

Blaise, being the smart boy that he was, knew that there'd be hell to pay if his owl were caught destroying Nott's potion. It took him twenty minutes to capture the damn bird, and another ten struggling to get him back into his cage.

By the time the Slytherin has managed to leave in a state of almost-dignity, he'd had a hand clamped over his right eye to keep it from twitching, and the expression on his face...

Needless to say, no one spoke to him as he sat down to a late breakfast. He was eternally grateful for that, as he'd likely Avada Kedavra anyone who'd dare interrupt his most cherished of meals, thereby losing Slytherin House all its points, and sending him straight to Azkaban.

Assuming, of course, his uncle didn't manage to throttle him the moment Blaise turned his back, as the first was probably much worse in his uncle's opinion. Particularly considering the current situation of the family.

Speaking of which, Blaise needed to meet his uncle immediately. The letter he'd been sent was explicit in its instructions. As it was Saturday, and Blaise made a habit of finishing any schoolwork as quickly as possible whilst remaining correct, he couldn't find a single cover that'd be remotely believable.

Sometimes Blaise hated being both intelligent and ambitious.

He stalked his way to the dungeons. A group of first year Hufflepuffs scattered as he strode past, more than one whispering about how the Slytherin sixth year had likely been caught fighting a single hand brawl against all the Gryffindors the previous evening. After all, why else would he look in such horrible condition and have a hand over his eye?

He almost turned and snarled at them, but with both eyes twitching now, as well as feeling too enraged to properly speak in order to threaten, he felt his intimidation skills would be lacking.

Finally, he reached the Potions dungeon. He knocked on Professor Snape's office door and waited. He concentrated very hard on making his face and mind blank. He'd discovered over the years his Head of House was a minor Legilimens, one who needed the Legilimens spell to read more than surface thoughts.

As a precaution against both Snape and his fellow Slytherins, Blaise had been learning Occlumency. He found the text, How to Lie to A Mind Reader: A Slytherin's Guide to Protecting Your Gray Matter by Beschermde Mening, particularly useful in this, as it explained the steps of learning in detail, whilst providing practical uses for the skill of Occlumency in the political or business world.

"Enter."

The voice shook him from his reveries. Cautiously, the sixth year opened the door and entered. He noted the haggard appearance of the man sitting behind the desk immediately, but mentally catalogued it as a possible act. Blaise calmly stood there, waiting for his Head of House to finish scrawling on the parchment. As time continued to pass, the young man leaned against the wall.

Snape abruptly stopped writing, and set his quill into the inkwell. "I suppose you think yourself clever, boy, for figuring out that little trick." His glittering black eyes caught his.

Blaise merely asked quietly, "You wished to speak with me, uncle?"

* * *

"Knight to F Three." 

"Uncle-"

"Silence, boy. I'm trying to get this piece to move. Knight, F Three."

"But, y'see, Uncle Sev-"

"I said silence, and if you call me that ridiculous name again, I will be forced to give you a drink of Veritaserum and stick you in the Slytherin Common Room. Knight, F Three!"

"Uncle Sev, listen-"

"I dislike repeating myself! Knight, F Three! Move, you bloody piece of stone, move!" A fist slammed down on the table next to the chessboard. The pieces jumped and fell across the floor and board. Severus quirked an eyebrow as he noticed their lack of complaints. He glanced up at the young man's face, which was perfectly calm. Naturally, Severus grew even more annoyed. He glared at his 'nephew.' "It's a Muggle board."

"Excellent deduction, Uncle Sev. Kindly help me reset the board so we can play, please." The young man reached down and began picking up the pieces that had fallen to the floor.

The pale man glared at him before resetting the pieces that hadn't fallen. "I'm still going to poison you for calling me that."

Blaise shrugged indifferently as he finished setting the pieces up on his side. "Go ahead. Mum would go into conniptions, though. You know how she is about murder attempts on the family." He watched his uncle move the knight. The young Slytherin moved a pawn in response. Severus reached for his other knight, mirroring his first move. Blaise move the pawn again.

"By the way, Blaise, the fifth use of Manticore needles is not 'stabbing one's uncle for giving this bloody assignment in the first place.' Imaginative response, but incorrect all the same." The Potions professor's black eyes glittered as he moved.

Blaise grinned and advanced his piece.

Damn that boy for having the same sense of humor as himself!

He moved his knight to avoid it being taking, then swore to himself as it was taken from an angle he hadn't seen anyway.

They continuedthe game in relative silence, Blaise occasionally asking questions relating to Potions work. The boy had a brilliant mind, to the extent that Severus would not have been surprised to see him in Ravenclaw. But he was damn well glad that the boy was in Slytherin. Easier to keep an eye on his errant 'nephew' that way.

As the game grew more pressuring, Blaise seemed to be struck by a thought. "I nearly forgot. Mum sent a letter to be passed to you." The young man pulled a letter out of his pocket and handed it to his 'uncle.'

Severus glanced at him, obviously wondering what the game was now. He reached into his robes and withdrew a curved dagger. He took the letter in one hand andcut open the seal (a runespoor under the words "Juge Pas") with the other.

_Dear Cousin Severus:_

_I trust you have been well, as there has been no mention of you passing. In fact, there has been barely a mention of you at all. My son has never spoken of you, other than saying he occasionally spends time with you. I'm curious as to why this is. Especially considering the fact you are the least sociable creature on the planet._

_And kindly note, you're talking to a Zabini, who are not known for being social butterflies._

_He glanced up as he heard a muttering from his 'nephew.' Noticing nothing notably suspicious, he returned to the letter._

_Now, I've come to have a few theories over his visiting you. Either he enjoys you company, which, while I doubt, is possible; you are tutoring him in something that he should not be taught at all, which is rather likely considering your history; he simply doesn't wish to speak much, which I can believe; or he has his own agenda and is using your relation to one another as an excuse._

_Kindly let me know the moment you have discovered which._

_Your 'Matronly' Cousin,_

_Tristan Snape Zabini_

Severus slid the letter into its envelope and into his pocket. He looked at his nephew sitting across the board. There was something different about this view as compared to when he last glanced at him. He caught his "nephew's" eyes, and tried to read whatever Blaise was thinking. Nothing; apparently the Slytherin was much more advanced at Occlumency than Potter. Naturally. He mentally shrugged and reached for a rook.

"Hey! Wha' th' bloo'y 'ell d'ye think ye're doin'!" The piece shrieked. Severus started, then glared at his 'nephew.'

"What?"

* * *

Blaise sat at his usual table in the Library. His temper not much improved since the morning excursion of attempting to leave his room, as well as news on the grapevine of a looming Arithmancy test on Monday ("DAMN ALL TEACHERS TO THE DANKEST HOLES IN HELL!" was a common cry among frustrated students in that class), his concentration was shot straight to hell. After stalking through the shelves, he randomly chose a book and sat. 'Hélas, j'ai Transfiguré mes Pieds by Malecrit. How wonderful.' 

_Acte 1, Scène 1_

_**Entre Roland**_

_Roland : Non seulement mes jambes sont-elles charmées ensemble, j'ont les pieds d'un lézard ! Je ne peux pas être vu comme ceci !_

Blaise snickered to himself as he decided that the translation of the author's name also fit as a description of his literature. A clearing of a throat stopped his display of mirth, and had him pointing his wand in the direction of the noise. He looked up to see a strange young girl, wearing robes with the Ravenclaw emblem sewn on.

He studied her in a quick glance, trying his damnedest to place her. Wide eyes, vacant expression that was typically only seen on the face of a Ravenclaw during Binn's cure for insomnia of a class, and a wand tucked behind her left ear. Ah, yes, Lovegood, the ever eccentric girl that was always being robbed.

"Yes?" He drawled, still not lowering his wand.

"I'd like to sit at this table. I'd sit at the others, but they chatter and whisper too much, and it distracts me from my assignment."

He considered this. "Did you consider there might be a good reason I'm the only one sitting over here?"

Lovegood shrugged. "I assume it would be because you were snapping at anything that was moving since you walked in. If you don't mind, I would like to sit and get back to work. I just found an entry regarding Heliopaths, and I would like to continue."

Blaise lowered his wand and stuck it back inside his robes. "Heliopaths?"

She nodded vigorously and sat across the table. "Spirits of flame. The Ministry raises them for secret operations. It's in the Quibbler."

He said nothing, then tasted blood after a moment. He realized then that he'd unconsciously bit his tongue very hard to keep from commenting on the quality of journalism lately. Grinding his teeth, Blaise returned to his book. Dammit, he thought, as his eye began twitching.

This was becoming a very bad week.

A/N: I'm changing things, starting from the beginning a bit more. Hopefully it'll be much more smooth this time around. My thanks to my readers (my sympathies to you for reading this), my reviewers (God/Goddess/Higher Power bless your hearts. Or damn them, if you prefer), and my flying penguins. What? Don't look at me in that tone of voice!


	2. The Encounter

Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah, standard disclaimer.

**Thud. Thud. Thud.**

Blaise suspected that he was causing himself permanent brain damage, but truthfully, he didn't care. He continued pounding his head into the table and whimpering. It should have been impossible. He thought his control was too great. But no, the impossible had become the inevitable.

Luna Lovegood was driving him completely and totally mad.

He'd tried to ignore her ramblings after she'd completed her work, he'd truly tried, but it had proven to be incessantly penetrating. Blaise tried his relaxation techniques that always worked when he practiced Occlumency, with no avail. After those failed attempts, he'd attempted logically proving the creatures she was so eagerly babbling about, and the plots as well, were preposterous. It just did not seem possible to convince her though.

Hence the pounding of his head into the desk.

"-and the Snorkacks-" **Thud.**"-are also supposed to be very territorial-" **Thud.**

Bleeding hell! She was still talking! He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the words under the hand. Sure enough, it read, 'Surrounded by idiots.'

"-also have green fur, but the females' fur is more of a lime green, while the males'-"

He slammed his head harder into the desk. He had a feeling the rest of the Library was staring at the table in confusion or sympathy. He felt an extreme need to rip something to ribbons. Like a certain blonde Ravenclaw who was still blathering about bloody _fucking_ **_Snorkacks!_**

"-horn is actually hollow-"**THUD.** "-they can blow through it-"**THUD.** "-causing-"

Grasping for any way to get away from the irritating chit, he finally interrupted. "I'm afraid, my dear Miss Lovegood, that I must be off. I have most pressing business to attend to. It was a..." he found himself forcing the word through gritted teeth. "A...delight... to have this conversation with you." _Now kindly leave me the bloody hell alone!_ He thought to himself as he all but sprinted out of the Library.

Once in the corridor, he found himself breathing heavily and almost sobbing with relief. Checking to see if his lapse in demeanor was spotted, the Slytherin decided to go to the most calming place he knew.

Oh, the irony of that destination...

* * *

"Blaise."

The young man made no reply besides a light snore.

"Blaise." The girl tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Wake up, you git."

Blaise turned his head and drooled on the table slightly. The girl sighed exasperatedly and began to shake him. "Wake up, you asshat. You've got an owl waiting on you."

Blaise blindly swatted her hand away. The girl growled. He never woke up when he had to.

'_Thrice-be-damned little shit,_' she thought. She looked around, saw a perfect opportunity, and as a Slytherin, used it. She held her tool high above her head, and with all her strength, brought it crashing down.

**SLAM**

Blaise jerked back, completely awake now, and found himself falling backwards as he tilted too far in his surprise. "SWEET BLOODY FUUU-!"

**_CRASH_**

Blaise groaned as he sat up and glared. "Dammit, Daph, you couldn't have woken me up without injuring me, just once, could you?"

Daphne smirked, holding a thick text. "Of course not. If I did, you'd have to ask if I were feeling well, you arrogant fuckwad. And my convincing you that I am, indeed, fine, would take far too long." She grinned. Well, for her it was a grin; to anyone who didn't know her, it'd seem like a baring of her teeth. "Anyway, you've got a meeting with Snape. About the family business."

Blaise sprang to his feet, still glaring. He quickly gathered his belongings, and sprinted out the Slytherin Common Room. Daphne smirked, primly sat on a couch facing the entrance and began counting quietly to herself. "…9…10…11…12…"

Blaise burst back into the Common Room, stalked to her, and held out his hand. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, "Might I have my trousers back, please?"

She gave an innocent look. "Whatever are you talking about? I've no idea what you are speaking of." Her eyes traveled down, and her voice took on a false shocked tone. "My word! You've ventured out into the halls half-naked! How could you, Blaise!" She cocked her head to the side. "Nice boxers, by the way. Is that silk?"

Blaise snarled. "Daph. We're in the dungeons. It is very cold. Hence, I am very cranky. Return my pants, or I will carve out your tongue with a toothpick, a lemon, and some of Draco's 'happy juice'."

"Fine, fine." She reached under a cushion and handed them to him. "You should know better than to fall asleep in here anyway. What'd you expect to happen?"

He glared as he put the pants back on. "You do realise I'll take my revenge, don't you?"

The young woman shrugged. "I'd think less of you if you didn't at least try."

With a final obscene gesture, Blaise exited the room again.

* * *

He stared up at silvery eyes in shock and pain. He felt his hands shake, but he didn't care. There was absolutely, positively, and in every aspect no way this could be happening to him. It was statistically impossible for him to have this much bad luck, especially within a period of only a few days. He had a feeling that were he to get on his knees and cry to the heavens, "WHY ME!", that some Divine Being would reply, "Because there's something about watching you suffer that I find really funny."

Upon leaving the Common Room, Blaise had been assaulted by the female Weasley, who seemed to be trying to follow in her older brothers' steps and torment passing Slytherins. When Filch came running down the hall, and Weasley wisely making a retreat, the Sixth Year was blamed for the mess of scorch marks and dung, and only avoided a detention when another over-excited Dungbomb went off in the next hall over. When told rather firmly to stay put, Blaise quickly ran to a cul-de-sac behind a statue of Morte the Macabre, where he cleaned off his robes with a hasty _Scourgify_. The smell was simply too awful for him to stay where he was (plus Filch was always annoying, so he had no real reason to stay), so off he went to his meeting with his Head of House and uncle. He was promptly admonished for getting caught, despite his protests that he had done nothing.

The next day, he was stopped by Professor McGonagall, who scolded him for running through the halls. After a brief interrogation as to why and where he was running to, he was again on his way to Snape's office. Why he had the Slytherin Common Room and his office on opposite sides of the castle were beyond Blaise. He privately suspected it was to give Slytherins a chance to get some exercise before meetings or detentions. Snape had accepted that reason, as it was another professor intervening.

The day after that, as he passed the kitchens, he was bombarded with pies, water balloons, and flatulence by Peeves. This did nothing to improve Blaise's mood during the week, and caused his right eye to begin twitching again. Pulling his wand on Peeves, he spat at least a half dozen curses at the poltergeist. At least 3 passed through him and created a strange dripping goo on the ceiling. The other curses caused Peeves to swear and fly off. His uncle was not amused at this excuse, either.

Why, oh sweet Merlin _why_, did his uncle see fit to try to play mentor to him? Why did his mother have to send that letter, saying keep watch over him? And most importantly, why was that annoying Ravenclaw, Lovegood, staring him at during meals?

Blaise prayed for an easy end to this jaunt to his uncle's office that morning.

Naturally, as he turned the corner leading to the Potions dungeon, he plowed into someone, causing them both to fall and spill the other person's papers across the floor. He grunted as the other person collapsed atop him. Apparently, they'd been moving with more force than he had. His head hurt from hitting the floor.

"Ow." He reached and felt the back of his head. No blood, but it hurt like hell.

"Oh, hello." He opened his eyes to see too-wide silver eyes looking back at him. He'd run into none other than Loony Lovegood. She was lying atop him, her cheeks slightly flushed, presumably from the collision. "How are you feeling? I hope I didn't hurt you too badly, but I was chasing a nargle. I wanted to try to draw it. I don't suppose you saw it on the way?" He shook his head. "Oh, well. I'm sure I'll find another soon." She pushed herself up so she sat just above his thighs, her hands on his chest.

Blaise started at this. _Bloody hell, if someone walks by, they'll think we're having sex!_ _Especially with her sitting on me like that! ...she doesn't look half bad in that position and her face flushed, though…Wait, **what**! What the **fuck** are you thinking, Blaise! She's a loon, a nutcase… An attractive woman dangerously close to my bits! No, stop thinking like that! Gah, must get away!_ With a force of will acquired from his Occlumency training, he pushed away those thoughts. "I'm fine. You?" He asked in a tightly controlled voice.

She nodded and stood, moving to the side. "I'm fine. I had a cushion."

He snorted as he pushed himself up. "I noticed." As she began gathering her papers together, he reached down and helped her. She stared at him for a moment, actually blinking for what seemed to be the first time since they ran into each other. He handed her the papers, feeling slightly unnerved by her look, and the thoughts that remained behind from her being on top of him. "Well…er…sorry, Lovegood. For ramming into-RUNNING! Running into you!" He felt his face redden as his subconscious supplied images of her atop him again, sans clothes. She seemed to find this amusing, as her mouth quirked into what could only be called a smug smirk. This was even more unnerving to Blaise, and he stammered out, "So…um…yeah…well…uh…g'bye." He turned away and dashed down the hall.

"Zabini!" Her voice rang out. Almost cringing, he faced her again. "Snape's office is that way." She jerked a thumb behind her.

He blinked. Then blinked again. "Oh. Right. Thanks." He passed her and headed into the hall containing the Potions dungeons. It wasn't until he passed the third dungeon that he thought, _How did she know I was going to Snape's office?_

**TBC**. **Eventually.**

A/N: I'm currently changing things around in my head as to what this story will be about. In all honesty, I don't know how it's going to end. Hopefully it'll add to the telling.

Anyway, on to technical stuff. Luna may seem out of character, but I've got a good reason behind that. I'm not saying what that reason is, as it may change. I don't know, but it's working so far. As for Snape's office being on the other side of the castle, all it mentions in the books is that the Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons, as is Snape's office.

This will end up being a Blaise/Luna, though it may take a while, and the Blaise in my head says "Just one woman? What the hell?" So expect a myriad of ships. And as you can tell, Blaise is suffering from attacks of hormones at odd times. He's at least 16 at this point, so why not?

So, review if you want, don't lynch me for annoying you with crushed dreams, and remember to do something random at least 3 times a day.


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